Slow deliberate cuts of long dark hair

float from his shoulders, barely noticed,

to the cold stone floor of this house

of curtain-less windows

and tables bare of flowers.


For it was an angel's fair voice

that beckoned him through the churning seas

and swirling waves of his distracted discontent.


Seduced once again by passionate parted lips...

deft soft hands caressing his unbridled needs.


Lured by lust and gold-dusted promises

of warm hues and sweet smells of hearth

to her nurturing bosom.


Lured to a home falsley called,

rooms empty of warmth...walls smelling of ash

to a cold empty teat.


He stood clothed and chained in finery

not of his own...

a warrior heart...the bravest soul of a lion

ruled by the fragile yearnings of a cub.


Trust-filled young eyes

and a steadfast faithful heart

are as dissipating smoke

from the embers of destruction...

the ashes of his seduction